


The Most Magical Place On Earth

by gingertintedglasses



Category: Marvel, Real Person Fiction
Genre: AU, Chris and Hayley's motto seems to be "Because Eff Scott Evans", Disney, F/M, Fluff, Hayley Atwell - Freeform, Hayley and Chris are trolls, I might add more to this in the future, Marvel RPF - Freeform, RPF, Scott is a good bro, Scott is sassy, Yuletide, chris evans - Freeform, i might not, mentions of drinking and drunkenness, mentions of overeating, this was supposed to be a yuletide but it took me forever and I sort of forgot about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertintedglasses/pseuds/gingertintedglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be for Yuletide 2015 but time got away from me.  Also it's obviously an AU now.  But I still had fun writing this and wanted to share it, so.  Here we are.  </p><p>Hayley can't stand the Christmas crunch and stress and just wants a break.  She decides to go to Disney.  She decides to bring Chris without his knowledge (thanks, Scott!) as she's never been before and no one loves Disney like Chris loves Disney.  </p><p>Scott decides it's the perfect opportunity to play matchmaker.  Chris and Hayley decide to troll him.  </p><p>They aren't sure whether they succeeded, or Scott did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Magical Place On Earth

 

 

“I’ll have you know the last circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers and shit.”

“You got that from _Pirates of the Caribbean_.” 

“And Dante! Dante totally wrote that. Included a picture.”

“Christopher.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t see what me hearing it in _Pirates_ first has to do with _you_ being any less of a back stabber!” 

“I beg your pardon?! I am _not_.”

“You were talking to Scott and nothing good _ever_ comes of that. Ever. Not once. It’s been five years. Are you making a pit-stop in the circle for liars?”

Hayley hummed. “No, I was thinking of popping in and saying hi to you and all the other horny bastards, actually. Thought you’d like to see a familiar face. Well, _another_ one.”

“It’s not my fault I’m America’s favorite.”

“And anyway, you don’t expect I was going to tell you what I was talking to your brother about, do you?”

“Come on!”

“Patience is a virtue.” She tried –and failed- to keep the sing-song cadence out of her voice. She was pretty sure he could hear her smiling.

“So is loyalty! _Or it is to people who don’t go to hell_.” 

“Oh, no! I’m going through a tunnel! You’re breaking up! This is so terrible! Oh my god!” Hayley hung up.

The weeks leading up to Christmas were always stressful. Whether or not she was working or promoting, there was the stress usually associated with the holidays that she actively tried to avoid and meditate around: finish shopping early and remind herself that time with family was more important than anything she could wrap up.

She still, somehow, always found herself at zero hour a gift short and feeling far more frazzled than she ever liked to be after even the longest shoots.

This year was going to be different, she resolved. 

This year, she was going to Disney. 

With Chris.

Without his knowledge.

*****

 _“You are the_ Queen _of surprises, but I don’t really know how to pull this one off. I’ll have to think about it.” Scott had assured her that Chris was out with their mother picking out a tree. (“Captain America can wrestle Mom’s coniferous monstrosity this year, isn’t that what his muscles are for?”)_

 _“Please. I can’t take another year of this holiday madness pretending like I’m Zen about it and if I have to spend another February listening to him_ Oh my God, there’s so much snow here, you don’t even understand, I’ve never seen it like this, it’s wicked fuckin’ weird. _I don’t know what I’ll do.”_

_“Fly over with a flamethrower? Just a suggestion. Or just come over anyway.” He was smiling, she could tell._

_“No thanks. I saw the pictures. He sent one every other minute.”_

_“Of the snow?”_

_“Well, that or his ski mask and his ears_ Does this look like frostbite? I bet I’m getting fucking frostbite.” _She was pretty sure her Boston accent was improving_. 

_“Hmm.”_

_“What?”_

_“Nothing. I just had an idea, that’s all. For getting him on the flight without knowing it’s Disney.”_

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah. I’ll take care of that though. Just get me a ticket and I’ll get him where he needs to be and I’ll be sure he looks morose.”_

_“My god I love you.”_

_“Not too much I hope. Have to save room.”_

_“What?”_

_“Nothing. Gotta go!”_

That conversation had been an hour before Chris’ call. She wasn’t sure how he knew that she’d spoken to Scott. If they’d been twins, she’d have chalked it up to some Weird Twin Thing. She couldn’t. So she chalked it up to some Weird Evans Thing instead.

Hayley was also going to write off Scott’s enigmatic tone as some Weird Evans Thing because she didn’t really want to think about what he could have possibly meant otherwise. She booked flights and a Disney vacation instead. 

She only had two weeks until Christmas as it was. (Typical. And _exactly_ why she was taking this vacation this year.)

***** 

It was a Herculean effort to keep Chris from dragging any details out of either she or Scott for the next two weeks, but it was entirely worth it when, in Orlando International Airport, she “happened” to bump into an entirely depressed looking Chris Evans.

Who didn’t even notice she was standing right beside him.

To be fair, it was like seven in the morning (“Ass-fucking-early-o’clock” he’d called it one day they weren’t required to be on set and she’d still woken him up to get bagels and watch the sun come up on the beach). He was wearing a giant hoodie (hood-up) and sunglasses on and held a coffee the size of which she wasn’t sure they even _sold_ anywhere. 

To be fair, she had snuck up just outside of his peripheral vision and was similarly dressed. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you hated Florida.”

“Holy shit!” He spun around with a speed and volume completely mismatched with his usual enthusiasm for the hour (and the crowd, which was fortunately still a little too tired to pick up on just what and who they were watching). “Hayley!”

She had worked with Enver, Dominic, Neal, and Sebastian, (and the rest of the Commando boys), and no one gave a bear hug quite like Chris.   “Chris!” He’d had the wherewithal to put down the coffee, thank god.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Waiting for my luggage.” She pointed to the conveyor belt that was starting to move. “Yourself?”

He groaned. “I mean in _Florida_ at _Christmas_.”

“Oh!” She smiled very wide and very sweetly. She wished she could have taken video of this moment for Scott. “I have two tickets for Disney for a week. But I couldn’t find anyone to go with me. What are you here fo—“ 

He picked her up, and spun her around, shouting about betrayers and hell and his brother and _how dare she keep this from him she was in so much trouble, did she understand him?_

At his outburst, a few people started to take interest and look a little closer, but they managed to get to their hotel – _Grand Floridian are you fucking kidding me Hayley this is amazing, it’s a villa, we’re staying in a villa, oh-fucking-man_ \- without discovery.

And they _both_ had a laugh at the arrangement waiting for them when they arrived.

Hayley busied herself unpacking her suitcase while Chris called his brother. She could hear his half of the conversation faintly from the other room.

 _“Flowers you dipshit? I mean, they’re –what? Oh” Silence, and then the sound of careful rifling. “Oh. You are the best brother ever. How did you even –more? I –well, no, I only found the bottle of –ok, hold on.” More silence and shuffling. “You’re a dick. Thanks for the rest, though. –What? No. I –_ No _I don’t. Didn’t. Won’t. Let it go. It’s in your head. –Wait, do I hear Mom calling you to help her clean the house for the party in two days? You better hurry.”_

She heard his footsteps and turned to see him leaning against the doorframe. “I heard you say the word bottle, didn’t I? Why is there no bottle in your hand? We’re on vacation!” She moved to step past him, and he moved to stop her.

“I’ll grab it. You unpack.” He hurried back to the sitting room and was gone much longer than it would have taken to grab the bottles he came back with. “Wine or rum?”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “Well, that depends.” 

“On what?”

“Pool or spa?”

“Count of three.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Christopher.”

“I’m not _not_ picking. If we disagree, we rock-paper-scissor.”

“That’s the same as not picking!” 

“One, Two, Three.”

*****

Which is how they wound up side by side in mud wraps after massages with an empty bottle of wine between them.

“This is _way_ better than Boston. Don’t tell my Mom.”

“No. I’m still surprised she hasn’t flown in to kill me for having you here for the holiday instead of with family.”

“I think she could tell I needed a break.”

“She is your mother.” 

“Well, that and my anxiety has been kicking up a notch.”

“Mm. Your cuticles are a nightmare.”

“It’s cold and dry at home!”

“A likely story.” Haley depressed a button on the arm of her chair. “Excuse me, can I please reserve two time slots this afternoon at the nail salon?” There was a moment of quiet and then a clear, soft response. “We’ll take the two o’clock spots. Thanks!”

“Fine, but I can really only do a peach or a coral pink. Otherwise whatever color I choose will clash with, just, everything I brought.”

Hayley laughed. “You could always do a French manicure you know. Very classy. Or a sneaky clear coat.” She wiggled her fingers in his direction. “I myself am going for some sparkle shine.”

“You’re going to blind me. You want me blind. Day one of our vacation and you’re trying to damage my retinas. Is this covered under workman’s comp?”

“Oh! Oh, oh, oh.” She shifted carefully and handed Chris her phone. “Take a picture. I want to send it to Scott.”

She arranged the wine bottle just so in her lap so it appeared she’d passed out after drinking the whole thing herself and captioned it _“Thanks for the bevvys! Not sure you sent enough ;) xx_

The response came quick enough. And cryptically enough. _Enough of what? x_

“What does he mean?” Hayley passed her phone over to Chris, who nearly dropped it.

“Not sure.” He passed the phone back before pulling out his _own_ phone, and typing in such a way that would have been considered furious, if it wasn’t a touchscreen (you weren’t able to do much furiously anymore, not since they did away with the flip phone).

“Ah.” 

***** 

“How did you know that’s an anxiety thing?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Hayley had been busy mulling over the downright delicious choices on the menu and was a little blindsided when Chris asked…whatever it was he was asking.

“My hands. How’d you know?” 

“Because you only wear plasters before junkets or the promo circus starts. Otherwise you shake it off because you don’t turn your heat on until November First and you’ll be damned if you’re going to cover up a paper cut.”

He stared at her like that left him with more questions than it answered, but nodded anyway. “Oh. What’re you getting?” 

“Probably a stomach ache. Are we going to do that thing where we silently dare the other person to keep eating until there’s nothing left or you feel like you’ll be sick?”

“It’s tradition.”

“Perfect.”

He went back to his menu. His hands, speaking of, looked much better after their earlier appointment. Paraffin worked wonders and she knew he knew it. She tilted her own fingernails and smiled. She’d gone with a dark purple polish the technician was only too happy to work some magic over with a hyper-glittery silver polish.

While Chris had showered and changed, she’d called Shana and had her book Chris a number of appointments at Shana’s favorite salon. ‘Cold and dry’ her ass.  

She instragrammed her dinner but didn’t say _where_ she’d eaten it. She’d post a bunch of pictures once they got back to their respective homes. She wanted a week in (relative) peace and quiet. There was no sense in blowing their cover their first day and getting exactly no rest when that’s what they were here for.

***** 

They both had a stomachache.

“I can’t believe you made me eat that much food!” He groused, kicking his shoes off as they made it back into their suite. _A villa, Hayley, it’s a fucking villa._

“I didn’t make you do _anything_ and I ate just as much as you did and I’m like half your size and you don’t hear me complaining about my stomach.” 

“Yet.” 

“Ugh.”

They’d each gotten an appetizer (“Can you not finish one on your own, Hayley?”) and a meal and a dessert and several glasses of wine. 

“Hey, Hayley?”

“What?”

“Feel like grabbing some ice cream?” 

She threw one of her shoes at his head. He managed to duck, but only just.  

***** 

Chris expected Scott to have called in a wake-up call for him at six-fucking-o’clock.

He didn’t.

Which meant that either their mother had had words with him, or Scott was afraid of Hayley’s wrath if the call woke her up inadvertently. Both were possibilities.

It was sort of a non-issue, but he was a little affronted that Scott wasn’t afraid of him at all, but he was clearly jittery about pissing off Hayley. (Not that she wasn’t formidable, oh man.)

To distract himself from his hurt feelings, he ordered room service. Even though they ate themselves sick the night before Chris was already hungry again and he knew she would be too.

Even if she wasn’t, neither of them were training for a role right now and there was something beautiful about not having to worry about eating too much or too little for a part.

He was partway through his first cup of coffee when she rolled out of bed and into the living room (because they had a living room because they were _in a fucking villa_ ), hair wild and eyes sleepy.

“I wondered what smelled so delicious.”

“Sorry. I took my shirt off for a few minutes to get changed. I knew I should have waited.” 

She tightened the sash on her robe –her _housecoat_ , excuse him- and poured a cup of tea. “Hilarious. –Are these those almond tasties? I love those.”

“I know. I saw they had them, so…yeah.”

She took a giant bite and slid into the seat across from his. “Whas’ ob th’ sched’le f’r t’day?” 

She was probably only kidding. He knew that. The thing was, _he wasn’t_. “So, I was thinking we hit Magic Kingdom first, because that place is the best, right? Old school, classic, totally have to go first. Then maybe we take a break, or go to Blizzard Beach because it’s going to be hot as balls today and by the time we wrap up at Magic Kingdom it’s going to start cooling off a little and we’re going to need that refresher.” 

Part of why he liked hanging out with her so much was that Hayley was able to adapt to pretty much anything. “Lead the way. I’ve never been before.”

He gaped. Chris knew he did. He gaped _like a fish_. He wasn’t sorry. He couldn’t apologize even if he was. He was _speechless_. And then he started to smile very, very wide.

This was going to be _awesome_.

*****

It _was_ awesome.

It was awesome when he didn’t tell her about the drop at the end of Splash Mountain and she screamed like a girl. (“I _am_ a girl!”). It was awesome when she staggered out of Space Mountain completely dizzy and asking if everything in Disney was _Mountainous_ and wiggling her eyebrows and motioning to his trapezius.

They stopped just long enough to find water. 

“I’m starving.”

“We can eat later.” He had no intentions of needing the Puke Fairy.

“Come on, please. It’s not even noon yet. We have plenty of time. We have all _week_.”

“Not yet. Soon. Promise.”

Hayley made a sound that wasn’t quite agreement, wasn’t quite disagreement, but was one hundred percent _are-you-fucking-kidding-me_ and allowed herself to be dragged along.

To the Mad Tea Party.

He made a show of planting his feet to stabilize himself.

“No.”

“You really should observe safety precautions.” 

“Don’t.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Chris.”

“It’s for your safety! Mickey doesn’t want you to get hurt!”

“No.”

He settled his hands over the flat wheel in the center. “Ready?”

She braced her hands on either side of herself, her “No!” getting lost in between a laugh and a shout as he put all his strength behind spinning their teacup.

He eventually had to stop spinning the wheel. Between the looks the attendant was giving him and the fact that Hayley had slid into his side, he figured he’d worked up enough momentum.

“Fun?”

She paused partway through combing her hair away from her face as she stumbled out of their teacup to grab his arm and tug. “Payback.” 

Which is how he ended up staring at the trunk of her racecar on the Tomorrowland Speedway.

*****

They didn’t go back to the _villa_ (holy shit that was never going to get old) until after dark. They were dead on their feet and full to the gills and _still_ ordered room service because, like, _cake_. 

He was stepping out of the shower when she asked. 

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Did he sound high-pitched? He hoped he didn’t sound high-pitched. Then she’d know something was up. But he was pretty sure he’d found and hidden _every single_ condom that Scott-Matchmaker-Evans hid in his otherwise thoughtful gift. 

But he could have been wrong.

He _could_ have missed one. And Hayley _could_ have found it lying out somewhere random so it looked like it fell out of _his_ stuff and not Scott’s gift and then _everything_ would be ruined all because _his brother thought he was_ living _The Dating Game_.

She came around the corner, not even concerned with whether he was wearing pants. (Good thing? Bad thing? Pants stopped mattering after a while on set with tiny changing spaces and only two hours to sleep. But for the record, he was wearing pants.)

“This.” She was holding up a clear bottle of liquor and, thankfully, _not_ a condom.

“Oh! It’s Raki. Scott’s latest obsession.” He picked up two glasses from the sink. “He’s a snob and wants everyone to think he’s some…what’d he call himself? Gastrofusion Prodigy? I think he was drunk. Anyway. I hope you like licorice.”

*****

She did. She liked licorice and Raki and, much like Chris himself, how it somehow became milky when you mixed it with water.

She got about as drunk as Chris. And thought it was a great idea, halfway through the bottle, to call Robert Downey Jr., when Chris suggested it.

“Oh, he seems _lovely_. Tell him I say hiiii.”

 _“Tell her I can hear –and see- her just fine_.”

“He says he’s –oh. You –you heard him, I think. Hey.” 

 _“Hey who?_ ” Chris had put Bob on Facetime. Because _obviously._

“You. Bob. Hi. Guess what’s in this.” He held up his glass of Raki and water that totally looked like something The Dude would drink.

“Alcohol. Did I win?” He was absolutely channeling Tony Stark, which wasn’t really fair. Well, maybe Tony Stark channeled Robert Downey Jr.? Chris wasn’t sure and he was suddenly confused and distracted.

Until Hayley roared, that is. “It’s Lion’s Milk!” She was proud that she’d discovered what the Raki-and-water mixture was called, and that she could roar so convincingly.

 _“That’s probably the best lion impression I’ve ever heard. Aside from Exton’s. But I’m a little biased. I think if MGM ever loses that lion footage, they could totally call you_.”

Hayley fucking _beamed_. “You really think so?”

 _“Absolutely. You could take that show on the road_.”

She preened.

_“Anyway Evans, what was this about science?”_

“Oh! The drink! We couldn’t figure out why it was going from clear to opaque, and—“

“— _Translucent._ It’s translucent, Bob. Honestly. High school dropouts.”

“-Right. Anyway. And we thought you’d know.”

_“You thought I’d know.”_

“Yeah.” Chris wasn’t sure why, but it should have been obvious. 

 _“…Why?_ ” 

“Because…well, we thought, because you’re Tony St—“

Hayley burped.

Not, like, one of those ladylike, excuse-me-oh-I’m-so-sorry, hand over her mouth burps.

No.

Hayley burped and _smiled_ like she’d just won a contest against eight other truck drivers and there wasn’t an excuse-me or an apology in sight and Chris _lost it_.

He and Hayley were still wheezing and gasping and wiping tears of laughter from their eyes when he heard Bob.

 _“Is this my official invite? Is that what this call’s really about? I’m assuming Susan’s invited. This is going to be_ weird _if she isn’t invited. I’ll have the chicken. No DJ, totally spring for a live band._ ” And then he disconnected.

They were giggling in fits and starts the rest of the night (morning? It was definitely morning even though it was still night) but had agreed to save the rest of the Raki for another night because _clearly_ they had had enough.

The lights had been off and they had both been quiet for ten minutes when Hayley spoke.

“Chris.” 

“What?” 

“We have to dance to that song from _The Bodyguard_ or we’re getting divorced.”

“Whitney is a classic. How dare you not know the name of that song!”

“ _You_ don’t know it!” 

“Yes I do!”

“What is it?”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Atwell. I’m filing for divorce.”

She devolved into a mess of sleepy giggles.

*****

In the morning, ok, _the afternoon_ , when Hayley woke up, not only did she have maybe the _tiniest_ hangover, she also was pretty sure she loved Bob Downey and had to come up with a way to get everyone to shut their face holes. It was not like that with Chris.

It was not. Like that.

She rolled over and went back to sleep for a little while longer. It was only just past noon and they were on _vacation, ok_ , and she could just sleep off the rest of her hangover and it wasn’t like Chis was awake yet anyway.

***** 

Hayley was not someone who had regrets. She moved to California and signed super hush-hush deals with major corporations and grabbed Chris Evans’ (left) boob on stage in front of hundreds of people and their cameras and Didn’t. Have. Regrets.

After waking up for the second time that day, she was sort of regretting roaring at Robert Downey Jr.

And not only because he had somehow gotten a hold of her number and sent her a video of her finest moment.

But because he had _also_ sent it to Scott. From whom she had no less than seven text messages.

_Bey takes fierceness lessons from you. omFg_

_Wait, were you guys in the BATHTUB when you FaceTimed Bob? WTF._

_How bomb is Raki? Seriously. So delish. How hungover are you? Seriously. So painful._

_Was that, like, a lion’s roar for “lion’s milk” or was that, like, some impression game you guys were playing?_

_Did you win, if it was? I bet you did. It was impressive. So impressive, you aren’t answering me because you’re too busy banging?_

_Don’t answer that question._

_No, but really. I didn’t stuff that arrangement with a nonsensical number of condoms for you two NOT to be making use of at least SOME of them. Honestly. Ungrateful._

Hayley pecked out _You Bastard_ as her only response. 

And threw herself out of her bed and into Chris’ before she could think too much about it.

“On a scale of ‘sunglasses’ to ‘Jesus take me now’, how hungover are you?” She mumbled into his sheet-covered shoulder. 

She’d smooshed herself up against him on top of his covers. He was warm. He was always warm and, somehow, always comfortable even though he was usually made of muscle when she spent time around him (not that she was complaining). 

“Sunglasses and a day of lazy river rafting.” He tipped his head to see her without moving otherwise. “Mornin.”

“Afternoon. Your brother’s an arse.”

“If I’m supposed to look shocked, let me know. I get paid to pretend so I think I could manage convincingly.” 

She shoved his side gently with her knee. “You’re _supposed_ to tell me when you’re bastard brother hides an arsenal of condoms in a flower-and-booze arrangement.”

Chris went white underneath his beard. “I thought I found them all. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“He told me about them. I didn’t find anything. Though now I’m worried –what must the hotel staff think?”

Chris groaned in frustration or embarrassment. Or both. “Sunglasses. Sunglasses and river rafting. _Lazy_ river rafting. And drinking. Definitely more drinking.”

*****

"Hey."  At least Chris waited until she was half asleep on their raft to tap her on the head.  "Hey."

"What?" 

"We should get him back."

"Who?"  She might have had a pina colada or two.  Hair of the dog sort of thing.

He'd definitely had some mango explosion with extra tiny umbrellas.  "Scott."

"I'll bite."

"Pictures."

"...Pictures." 

"Yeah."  He smiled wide, obviously pleased with himself and oblivious to Hayley's confusion.

"Okay..."

"Hayley... _pictures_."

"Oh.   _Oh_."  She smiled wide.  "You wicked boy.  Yes.  I'm in."

Which is how Hayley found herself sneaking into a changing room after Chris with her phone.

She snuggled up close and tilted her phone down to give the illusion that she’d _accidentally_ taken the photos while they were mid-makeout.

They took a couple more sitting a bit too-close-for-comfort acting like everything was obviously status quo with her in his baseball cap and he with his arm slung a little low around her waist. 

She sent Scott a bundle of photos, mostly of characters and rides and funny faces and strategically placed the two of them sitting together a little too close. Hayley was saving the changing room photo. That photo she had plans for.

Scott got back to her almost immediately.

_You look like you love it! Taking an Evans to pop your Disney cherry was such a good choice. Stay cozy!_

She showed her phone to Chris. 

“Looks like we’re on the right track.”

She typed out a response resembling _haha, arse_ when Chris’ head poked out of the bathroom.

“Oh. And jazz club?”

“Jazz club?” 

“Yeah. There’s one at the New Orleans themed hotel. Figured we could get our Steve-and-Peggy on. And some more pictures for my brother to fawn over.”

“Let me get changed.” 

***** 

Unlike Steve, Chris could dance, and unlike Peggy she wasn’t as fashionable, but they did dance until their feet hurt and the club closed.

Thanks to Chris’ reach, they also had several more pictures. Some just for fun - because it was fun – and one or two with his hand curled gently around the back of her neck and her head tipped back to lean against his jaw. 

“Epcot or Hollywood Studios tomorrow?” Chris looked over from his lounge on their balcony. 

“Mmm.” Hayley shrugged. “Isn’t there an animal park? I don’t know – what do you like best?”

He gave an indignant squawk. “I wasn’t allowed to not-choose.” 

“I’ve never been to Disney!”

“Hollywood Studios.” He was smiling. Very wide.

Hayley took herself off to shower; a smile that big was never anything but devious. 

“Are you decent?”

“I’m showering!”

“Great. So, I was thinking—“

She stuck her head out of the shower. It sounded like he’d sat himself on the vanity because _he had_. “Christopher.” 

“I’m sorry, did I need a ticket for this? Because honestly, it’s not like there’s anything about your face I don’t see on the regular.”

“ _Christopher_.”

“ _Fine_.” He jumped down and headed for the door.

“Chris.”

“ _What_?”

She mooned him just as he turned round in the doorway before pulling the curtain shut. She could hear him cackling all the way back to the balcony.

*****

Chris was aware that Hayley hated him. 

He knew it because she’d already told him 27 times while they stood in line for Tower of Terror and another five while the ride brought them up thirteen floors (it was _totally way more than that or at least it felt like it oh man this was going to be awesome)_.

The wall opened and the view of the park was beautiful. Hayley gripped the inner elbow of his sleeve.

“I hate you.”

“It’s so pretty!”

“I hate you.”

“Smile, Hayley.” He fucking _beamed_.

Hayley screamed and dug her nails into his arm. By the time they were halfway down, she was laughing.

He bought the picture for that ride even if it did cost fifteen fucking dollars because it was _priceless_ to see his (admittedly goofy) grin and her completely terrified, screwed-up expression and death grip on his arm (and chest? He didn’t remember feeling her grip his shirt, but she had somehow wormed her way into being halfway in his lap until the initial shock wore off.)

(He _also_ , upon closer inspection, didn’t remember holding onto _her_ super tight even though he was grinning to split his face). 

Chris decided he would have it enlarged, framed, and installed on one wall of her apartment while they were still in Florida.

“Oh.” Hayley made a miraculous recovery after the Rock’n’Roller Coaster and an adult beverage. “We should head back soon.”

“What? It’s only two.” He was trying not to sound like he was pouting. But, like, it was _only two, Hayley_.

“Oh. I must have forgotten to mention.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat. He loved when she smiled like that, because it usually meant trouble or fun. Or both. 

“What?”

“There’s a Very Merry Christmas Party we have tickets to tonight. We probably want to –oh!”

Chris picked her up and ran for the shuttle buses. He could see her shadow spread her arms out like she was flying after a few moments.

They made the bus just before it pulled away and he spent a good part of the trip back to the hotel reminding himself they were pranking Scott. And to _absolutely_ think of it like they were on set again.

Yes. Just like that.

***** 

Chris had been to Disney _so many times_ but he’d never been for _Christmas_ and he’d definitely never seen the Very Merry Christmas Party.

“Hayley are you fucking _kidding me_. This is awesome.”

“Children!”

“ _This is fucking awesome._ ” He whispered it next to her ear instead. There were kids all over the place, to be fair.

He sent Scott a picture of Cinderella’s Castle lit up like New Year’s Eve and another one of them on Main Street with a giant float lit the fuck up in the background. He had his hand low on her stomach. To prank Scott.

_Lucky you have such a good “Friend” to take you to Disney for Christmas._

Chris felt himself scowl against his will and hurriedly texted back: _That is totally a thing friends do. Don’t be jealous._

_Friends going TOGETHER, maybe. She took you to Disney and you’ve been cozier in every. single. picture._

Another text came through before Chris could respond: _Anyway, don’t tell anyone you’re banging until at least next week or Bob wins the pool_. 

“ _WHAT_?!”

Hayley turned to face him, startled. And several other people. He smiled and everyone but Hayley looked away. He showed her Scott’s most recent text. Only that one.

She laughed. A little _too_ hard. 

“Ok. Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do.” She leaned up on tip-toes to reach his ear just in case any of the adults nearby were still listening. “We’ll take a few more pictures like the changing room. Send them ‘accidentally’ to Scott like we’re sexting. As Steve and Peggy.”

Oh.

Chris didn’t realize that was a thing he’d be into.

Until he was, suddenly, _into it_. 

To prank Scott.

“You evil genius.” He whispered back. He gave her hips a squeeze because she hadn’t _exactly_ taken her personal space back after they took a photo for his brother.

(Were they even doing this for his brother anymore? He wasn’t sure. And he’d definitely need more drinks than he’d had since they’d gotten there before he asked. He wasn’t about to lose one of his better friends because of momentarily diverted blood flow.)

It was several hours and pictures later when they got back to the hotel. Cinderella’s Castle (and lots of other places) had mistletoe. Hayley had brought them on a scavenger hunt for it when she realized his anxiety was getting the better of him despite the parade – too many people and too much standing still. If ducking out of the parade early bothered her, she didn’t let it show.

As far as Chris could tell, she minded stopping for a kiss and a photo as much as he did.

(Or if she did, she didn’t _act_ like she minded. And Hayley was a _great_ actress. Chris was pretty sure he’d be able to tell if she was acting in this case, though. Maybe.)

“Think we got enough?” Chris was scrolling through his gallery, trying to decide if he’d be too warm with a shirt and covers, or if it’d be indecent to go without, or if he was thinking too much.

“For now. I’m having more of that Raki. Bring your phone.”

Chris nodded.

*****

This time, they FaceTimed James D’Arcy so that Chris could roar.   They mixed in less water this time around, so even though they had about as much Raki as they did last time, they were much drunker.

 _“I’m just sorry I had to miss this in person. I was wondering why I hadn’t gotten a_ single _Disney Dubsmash yet_.”

“A Disney Dubsmash!” they crowed at the same time. 

It had to happen. _It had to_. 

“Disney movie song, or a song while we’re in a park, or _both?_ ” Chris couldn’t decide. 

“Oh my _God_ we should have been doing one _every day_. I’m _such_ an idiot!” Hayley was off on her own tangent.

James was smiling wide. _“It seems my work here is done. I expect something delightful soon._ ”

*****

Hayley had to admit, it was a little slapdash, but still pretty excellently done nonetheless.

They’d spent the rest of their drunken evening arguing about what song to Dubsmash, and they’d finally decided upon “Zero to Hero” from _Hercules_ once she pointed out exactly the part she wanted to use.

Chris had needed to sit down he’d been laughing so hard and immediately offered up one of his shirts. Which was good, he’d been in a bad way earlier in the evening and she was worried he wouldn’t shake it. 

The next morning was much different. After many trial runs and tears of laughter, they were recording. This was it. He only had so many shirts before they couldn’t do this. (Not that it would’ve been _awful_ if he didn’t have any undershirts. But, well.)

Chris was standing in one of his tight white undershirts flexing and lip-syncing along with “ _Folks lined up, just to watch him flex_ ” before Hayley popped up over his shoulder, tore the shirt right off him (with the help of the tiny slits she’d made down the middle every half centimeter), and joined him in the “ _And this perfect package packs a pair of pretty pecs!”_ They both stuck their tongues out for effect as the Muses sang _“Ow!”_ in the background.

She was proud to say that less than a minute after the link went out (Bob, James, _Scott_ , Enver, Sebastian, _everyone they could think of because they were fucking hilarious, okay, and no one should be denied this kind of funny_ ) replies started pouring in.

 _You are a mad genius. There’s no topping that._ From James.

 _I thought I was too hot (hot damn!). Leaving me for Cap at the first sight of him. I SEE HOW IT IS._ From Enver.

 _I’m not sure what to do with you, Hulkette Hogan, but I like it._ From Bob.

 _HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE GOING TO WATCH YOU RIP CLOTHES OFF OF ONE ANOTHER BEFORE YOU ADMIT YOU’RE BANGING. OH MY FUCKING GOD._ From Scott. Of course.

 _How many shirts did you ruin for this?_ From Sebastian.

 _You ruined_ Hercules _for me._ From Neal.

Hayley high-fived Chris, showing him the responses. Even Scott’s. She figured either he’d do something about it, or she was reading him entirely wrong.

She wasn’t, she knew.

*****

The next morning, Chris suggested drinking ‘round the world at Epcot as their next adventure. She was definitely in for that. 

Apparently there was a science behind _how_ one did it – start at the wrong country and you were –

“—fucked. Oh my god, it was _awful_. I think Scott’s liver tried to emancipate itself.” Chris shrugged. He had his arm thrown around her shoulders and Hayley was inclined to let it stay there. “Come to find out –much later on- there’s a way to do these in the right order that you end up drunk but not in the same god awful way we were last time.”

“You’re in charge. If my liver hands me a resignation letter in the morning I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll hold your hair, I promise.” 

“Arse.”

“I’m being helpful!”

“Scoundrel.” 

“Do people even _say_ that anymore?”

“I just did!”

“Let’s just get some schnitzel and a drink.”

“What?”

“We’re drinking 11 drinks. In about 11 hours. And mixing alcohol. We _have_ to eat.”

“They have schnitzel?”

“I don’t actually know. We didn’t eat anything last time, which was part of the problem. We can _definitely_ get giant pretzels and a beer, though.”

They took a picture at every single country they ate and drank in. Hayley didn’t feel very buzzed until they were about halfway through (in a little under four hours).

“Lunch.”

“Huh?” Chris lurched to a stop when he felt her hand tighten on the back of his shirt. “What?”

“Lunch. Actual meal. Break. We’re ahead of schedule.”

He grinned, wrapping her up in the sort of bear hug only he gave. “Am I gonna have to carry you back to the hotel? I mean, I will. I’d be glad to. I’m just asking.”

“Maybe. Depends on when we finish the world tour.”

She let him guide her (she wasn’t very drunk, little buzzed, sure, but if he was leading, she’d let him.) over to a restaurant and they spent the next hour eating and drinking (water).

*****

The pit stop for lunch was helpful, but by the time they finished their world tour (successfully _thank you_ ) and got back to the hotel they were both a bit past buzzed but not _quite_ drunk. Was that a thing?

Druzzed. Brunk. Something. Yes.

Chris fumbled with their key card and mumbled something that sounded like “hot tub” and Hayley agreed, making a beeline for her suit and then the balcony where he was already sitting with the jets on.

He held up the bottle of rum as she settled in the hot tub beside him. “Thought I’d bring it just in case you wanted some too.” The cap was off to one side.

“All right.” There wasn’t a glass in sight and he wasn’t offering her the bottle. So Hayley opened her mouth and tilted her head back just enough, waiting for him to pour.

He didn’t pour. Instead, he leaned down, fit his mouth over hers and kissed her warm and open and slow. There was no phone and no camera and no Scott.

*****

They made out like teenagers. Chris was pretty sure he hadn’t even made out like that when he’d _been_ a teenager.

They forgot the bottle of rum beside the hot tub (they hadn’t had any of it aside from Chris’ first sip anyway, he’d hauled Hayley onto his lap and she hadn’t moved) and fell asleep in his bed after they got too tired to kiss anymore.

It had been kind of innocent. _Mostly_ innocent. It had been really, really hot.

Hayley was still asleep and he was careful to keep her that way as he re-adjusted closer. And fell asleep again. 

*****

This time when he woke up, he knew she was awake. Mostly because she was the one who woke him up with her _freezing cold feet are you fucking kidding Hayley_.

“Pool day?” She didn’t even sound _sorry_.

“Mmhmm. I didn’t realize your feet were made of _ice_.”

“Just like my heart.”

“Breakfast would help, I think.” 

“I’m getting another massage. At least one, anyway.”

“But breakfast first?”

“Yes. –Oh!” She grinned, rolling almost _off_ the bed. “Get your phone. I’ve thought of something completely wicked.”

He couldn’t say no if he tried. Not generally, but especially not because she had a condom in hand and was busy breaking open the foil.

She tossed the condom itself off the bed without even looking (Chris tried valiantly to suppress a whine and succeeded decently, he thought), before setting the wrapper on the bedside table behind Chris and adjusting the covers around them just so.

“Ok. Be sure it’s in frame, but only just. Mostly it’s us sleepy in bed.”

“You’re _evil_. I love it. This is the best. Scott has _no idea_ how great it’s gonna be to see his face. Oh my God.” 

“Shh.” She giggled, caught herself, took several pictures, smacked his arm several times, and re-took it several more times before having a take she thought was good enough.

“Did you take enough? We can stay in bed longer, if you worried about capturing the moment.”

She hit him with a pillow. “I thought you were going to order breakfast.”

“I _am_. But breakfast takes time to make. Don’t tell me you’re going to squander precious time.”

“Precious time?”

“I have _pretty pecs_. Didn’t we establish this yesterday? I thought you might want a better look.” 

“Oh my God.” Hayley had to hold her sides she was laughing so hard. “ _Oh my God._ You didn’t. You couldn’t.”

“…Also I was thinking we could spend the next three days eating and drinking at every single place that looks delicious and outrageously priced?”

Hayley put a hand to her chest. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me. _Delicious and outrageously priced_. You are a charmer.”

She was all wiggling eyebrows and devious smiles, so he was _pretty sure_ she was kidding, but also he was _really hoping_ she wasn’t.

*****

She wasn’t, and he sent her off to her massage more relaxed (and maybe a little weak-kneed) than she probably anticipated being.

Chris licked his lips a last time or two after hearing the door click shut and settled in for a nap (it was a vacation, he was allowed to nap in his own damn villa, except that his phone seemed to have other plans for him and even though they were half-encouraging him, Scott was a menace).

_Is your liver alive? Is wifey? I mean, Hayley? You guys looked ADORBS in those photos from yesterday. Did you buy lederhosen? I bet you assholes would even look good in lederhosen._

He groaned and called instead.

“You’re a dick.” 

“I’m jealous of your fashion range. And also of how beautiful your babies will be. And also hi.”

“Hi. Yes, my liver’s alive. So is Hayley’s. No lederhosen. Ever.”

“Do you think you’ll bring her back there in like, a couple years or months or like next week to get engaged?”

“ _What_?”

“Did that not seem like the natural progression of things? It looked like the natural progression of things!”

“Oh my God you are a Matchmaking Nightmare.”

“ _Excuse you_ I am your _Dream_. You’ve been pining for _years_ and didn’t even _know it_. Do you know what it’s _like_ living with you?”

“We don’t live together.” 

“You’re my brother and you’re arguing semantics and shut _up_.”

“I haven’t been pining.”

 _“So. Much. Pining._ ”

“There’s been no pining!”

“Then how come you’re so happy all of a sudden?” 

“It’s Disney!”

“It’s Christmas and you’re away from home!”

“It’s Disney!”

“You haven’t called your mother all week!”

“Are you _guilt-tripping me?_ ”

“Don’t change the subject but _maybe_. The point is, you’re happier than you’ve been in, like, a long-ass time. _Why_?”

Chris wasn’t tired any more and he hated his brother. “ _How_ do you – _why_ did Mom pass that superpower on to _you_? You only use it for evil and one night stands. You suck.” 

“Juuuust sayiiiiing.” Scott chirped.

“I hope you aren’t saying any of this shit to her.” 

“Mom says hi.” 

“Scott.” 

“Says she loves you.”

“Scott.”

“Says she needs me to help with—“

“— _Scott_.”

“—Piiiiiiiniiiiing!” 

Chris heard a dial tone.

He mock-strangled his phone (he wasn’t sure it could take too much more and he _also_ wasn’t sure if “younger siblings” or “contractually-required superhero beefiness” were covered by his phone’s insurance plan).

And then he took a nap anyway, because fuck Scott Evans.

*****

_Do you think you’ll have a destination wedding?_

That was Scott’s most recent text. The last group of pictures he was sent had another peppering of Chris and Hayley just-a-little-too-cozy-but-still-friendly in between pictures of delicious plates and outrageous drinks and Hayley had been fielding questions about proposals, weddings, and babies since.

 _I mean, Cinderella’s Castle is THE fairytale wedding spot, but if anyone will look the part it’s you two. Better make puke bags part of the party favors, though. Cuteness-induced vomiting is a real thing_.

Hayley hadn’t responded and it had been at least two hours. She was surprised he hadn’t sent another text (yet). She was also surprised she was still eating. After a day of pampering herself (and Chris pampering her, though he insisted he was pampering himself and she wondered at what point he’d develop a crick in his neck or pull a muscle in his tongue– not that a girl was _complaining_ ) they had spent most of the next day wandering around the parks eating and drinking anything that looked delicious.

“Hayley.”

There was a dollop of whipped cream on the end of her nose that smelled like pineapple. Chris removed it with his tongue as quickly as he’d put it there with his finger.

She laughed and gave him a gentle shove, effectively delaying a kiss. “Chris.” She ducked another dollop. “Chris.”

“Hm?” 

“Just…” She had to be careful. Not because they’d been friends for five years and they had to work together on however many more movies or appearances or whatever, but because he was sensitive. “…Slower.   Just a little.”

And maybe Scott was getting in her head? Maybe _she_ was getting in her own head? He had always been very tactile and she’d always been fine with it and so now suddenly she wasn’t? But was fine with having his face between her legs for a truly heroic amount of time the day before? Who was the anxious one now?

He gave her a smile that was a little too reminiscent of Steve Rogers. “Sorry. I just know you’re going back to California after and I’ll be in Boston until after the holidays –unless you’ll be at home in London? -Anyway. And I feel like I have to pack it all in _now_ whatever “it all” even _is_ and also I feel like I’m talking too much and it’s not helping.” 

Hayley’s phone buzzed.

 _Oh my God. I’ve got it: 1940s theme. I’m a genius_.

Hayley turned her phone off because fuck Scott Evans.

“It’s ok. Because _I’m_ not helping, either.” Were they doing in this in the middle of a Disney park? Yes. Because you didn’t always get to choose where you had your important discussions and there was something about hearing the music to some uplifting soundtrack or another in the background of what felt like a major crossroads of your life. “I think I’m overthinking it and you’re jumping in whole-heart-before-head and I don’t know if I can do that or give you that, at least not right now away. And also I’m the littlest bit scared to try and angry that I’m scared of that? How mental does that sound?” 

For all of the anxiety he spoke so openly about, he seemed calmer than Hayley felt and she was grateful for it.

“Then don’t.”

“What?” 

“Don’t worry. Don’t overthink it. I won’t rush. Let’s just do what we were doing earlier this week and have fun. But, like, with the kissing and stuff. Because I’ll slow down but I’m not taking a step back now that I’ve seen your boobs. Sorry I’m not sorry.”

She laughed and leaned a very defenseless nose forward. “I think I can work with that.”

*****

They did. Easily. After eating themselves (almost) sick. Chris was as enthusiastic as he’d been before and it took her some effort not to throw some distance between them at it.

He noticed. And after a raised eyebrow and a twist of his tongue Hayley sort of _forgot_ about it and had fun. And the condom wrapper wasn’t a set up that time but it wasn’t for Scott to know so they didn’t take a picture, even though they’d be the only ones to know the difference.

They were checking out in the morning for a mid-afternoon flight and Hayley was glad he was in the shower so she could have a quiet pout about leaving, even if she was going back to a place no less warm and sunny than Florida.

“You know, Boston’s a _lot_ colder, but if Scott beats me at charades again this New Year’s, I won’t hear the end of it. Also I need a date. Also, your face will freeze that way if you keep pouting that hard.” 

“I didn’t hear the water turn off.”

“Pouting can mask your other senses.”

“Did you ask me to be your date for New Year’s without actually asking?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m offended.”

The flower arrangement Scott had sent was still beautiful; the cleaning staff were clearly caring for it. Chris stuck one of the roses between his teeth and …tango-ed? Salsa-ed? – _Something-ed_ poorly over to her and dipped her dramatically and spit the rose out.

“Hayley.”

It was a herculean effort –was that a pun? Oh god, she was going to laugh- to keep a straight face. “Chris?”

“Be my New Year’s date?”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“…Fine.”

He pulled on a shirt and left their suite.

She was going to regret it. She knew it.

***** 

Hayley was right. She was enjoying the hot tub when she was suddenly _not_ enjoying it anymore. Because a mariachi band was serenading her.

Chris had hired a mariachi band. _He had found a mariachi band and hired them and let them into the suite to serenade her about being his New Year’s date_.

And he was filming the whole thing.

“All right! All right! I’ll come to Boston! Oh my god!” She hurried to swat at him while he clutched his chest and laughed hysterically. “I’ll change my ticket.”

“I already did.” 

“ _What?_ ”

“I already changed it! The people at the front desk are _very_ helpful.”

“Is it snowing in Boston?”

“…Yes? I mean, it did a couple days ago.”

“Good. Snowball war. You and me. Tomorrow." 

“I’m in.”

*****

Chris looked over Hayley’s shoulder as she put together her sext message she was sending to Chris and ‘accidentally’ group texting to Scott:

The changing room photo, another from after the jazz club against the door to their villa, and a third of them in the hot tub. _Love seeing the less-than-gentlemanly side of you, Steve. Can’t wait to see more of him in me, too._

She hit send.  

A couple minutes after Chris’ phone lit up, he sent the message back to Hayley (and Scott) he had ready to go:

The photo of them snuggled in bed, another of them they’d taken at some point when they’d been making out the night before, and a third of what could easily have been a still of a role-play to go with their text messages, but was actually Chris trying to get the last of the Raki from Hayley.   _Can’t say I’d say no to my favorite ‘show’ girl; not when she tastes so good._

He hit send.

They turned their phones off and went back to Blizzard Beach for the afternoon before they’d be in sub-zero temperatures. 

*****

Chris _should_ have been expecting the welcome he and Hayley received when they arrived at Chez Evans the next afternoon (especially considering Hayley’s arrival was unannounced).

“ _FUCK YOU BOTH I HATE YOU AND LOVE YOU WHEN IS THE WEDDING?!”_

Scott had the sense to tackle only Chris into the snow and punch him in the shoulder.

“Hi, Scott.” 

“You’re both assholes!”

“Why?”

“You scarred me! I didn’t want to see that, I didn’t want to read that, and I _certainly_ didn’t want to know about your Marvel old-timey role-play!”

“Oh, no.” Hayley feigned disinterested upset. “Did we send you dirty messages on accident? Oh, dear.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at her. “You giant, giant troll.”

She beamed.

“I can’t believe you.”

“What’s not to believe? There’s pictures.”

“I _hate_ you.”

Chris piped up from where Scott still had him pinned in a snow bank. “I’m getting pneumonia. Can I get up now?”

“ _No._ ” Scott moved anyway.

As soon as Chris stood and dusted the snow from his jacket, he felt snow hit the back of his head. And slide down the back of his jacket and shirt.

“I told you. War.” Hayley raced for tree cover as Chris bent to pick up a handful of snow. 

*****

Chris didn’t realize Scott had filmed good portion of the snowball war from the safety of the porch. Not until they were both inside, showered, changed, and _warm_ again.

And he’d thrown it on his Chromecast so they could _all_ watch it in the comfort of the living room.

It had ended when Chris ran at Hayley, completely ignoring the snow she threw at him and lifted her completely off her feet and tackled her – _gently thank you, his Mom raised him to be a gentleman_ \- into a snow bank. And rubbed snow in her hair. And she rubbed it into his beard. (Otherwise known as cheating. And maybe against some portion of the Geneva Convention? He’d have to check).

Chris’ phone buzzed.

_So the drunken FaceTime was my Save the Date. Does that make this my wedding invite?_

“You shared the video with Bob.”

Scott looked at him like he was crazy. “What? No, the file’s too big. I put it on _Youtube_.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Just wait. You thought you were scarred yesterday. _Just wait._ ” 

*****

“ _You’re trending_.”

“What?”

Bob called Chris three days after the snowball war.

“ _You’re trending. You and Hayley and your snowball fight and Mariah Carey._ ”

“…Mariah Carey? What?”

“ _Mariah Carey.   That’s the background music. The Christmas song. So catchy. I don’t even care that it’s not Christmas anymore_.”

“Oh my god.” 

“ _You should see these tags. They’re incredible. Hashtag CaptainCarter. Hashtag IShipIt. Hashtag ItsAboutTime –I started that one. There’s a_ ton.”

“Oh my god.” 

“ _I figured you didn’t know yet, so I wanted to tell you, and be the first to congratulate you. I_ also _want to be the first call to your Marvel family about any engagement or baby announcements.”_

“Oh my god.”

_“Chris. It’s awesome. Why are you –“_

He checked to be sure she was still inside. She was. Watching movies with his brother and mother and goddamnit if it didn’t do something to his heart he didn’t feel like thinking about. “—She wants to take it slow and not get too involved too quickly and it’s _really_ hard not to when this sort of thing happens and I don’t want her to—“

“ _—Reality check, buddy. Hayley is number one, a big girl, and two, also an actor. Just because everyone else is making it a big deal doesn’t mean you two have to get engaged tomorrow. Just because_ we’re _giving you both a hard time doesn’t mean anything. It means we love you. Take a breath. And call me if you’re going to freak out rather than doing something stupid, ok? I’m great at advice now that I’ve made all the mistakes. Ask Susan.”_

Chris took a deep breath. “Thanks, Bob.”

“ _Sure. I’ll talk to you later. Be sure you do something adorably YouTube worthy before she heads back to California._ ”

“Yeah.”

Chris took a few minutes to calm down before heading back inside. Bob was right. And he and Hayley had already talked about taking it slow and it would be fine; they wouldn’t let the teasing get to them. It was good. It had just started but it was good and it would be good and he dropped a kiss on the top of Hayley’s head as he sat down next to her and _beamed_ at Scott, devious and confident.


End file.
